


Just some bad time

by Prongs_writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Caring Keith (Voltron), Comfort, Comforting Keith (Voltron), Depressed Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance is a Baby, Lance needs help, Langst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pining Keith (Voltron), keith helps lance, keith to the rescue, klance, lance feels alone, lance feels down, mentions of hatt, not really but really, not really klance but klance, someone help this boy, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prongs_writes/pseuds/Prongs_writes
Summary: "It happened again and Lance wasn’t proud. In fact, he was devastated, miserable, crushed. Feeling defeated and hopeless and so, so alone.The sound of the TV was the only thing that filled the small apartment, some show or another turned on and being ignored by the blue-eyed boy."
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 183





	Just some bad time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent fic and a comfort fic and I just needed to write this for myself so I thought I could share with everyone and just let it out

It happened again and Lance wasn’t proud. In fact, he was devastated, miserable, crushed. Feeling defeated and hopeless and so, so alone.

The sound of the TV was the only thing that filled the small apartment, some show or another turned on and being ignored by the blue-eyed boy. The curtains were drawn, the windows locked except for one which was cracked just the tiniest bit open, allowing some fresh wisps of air to come in the otherwise stuffy space.

The entire place was eerily still, save for the small bundle placed on the couch. There, amongst various pillows and blankets laid Lance. He spent most of his time there recently, except for the occasional trips to the bathroom or the kitchen.

He couldn’t find it in himself to do anything else. Everything felt too draining, too big of a hassle, too...too pointless. Even making a meal took too much energy which led him to eat less and more low-quality food. But not like he cared.

Lance lazily scrolled through his phone, eyes feeling droopy but not wanting to sleep. He was tired of sleeping, too. He did it too much. But what else was he supposed to do when he felt so tired all the time? He felt as if all he did was eat, sleep, and repeat. That, and cry. 

He cried too much, too. Over everything, over nothing. He didn’t know anymore. He just knew that it was too much and that his head was too loud and that he couldn’t take it anymore because he had been keeping it in for way too long and he had to get it out one way or another. 

It seemed as if he entered an endless cycle of misery and sadness, unable to snap out of it no matter what he did. He just couldn’t escape it. Nothing helped. He couldn’t even figure out what was wrong or what threw him off the edge this time, he just knew that something was and something did and that was that on that.

Lance sighed, a new message coming from Hunk. He reflexively opened it, wincing and instantly regretting it. Why did he do that every time? He didn’t feel like he had enough energy or mental space to talk to someone yet he continuously opened everyone’s messages and replied, gushed, helped, pretended. A mask slipped on, just like always.

Another failed one, why can’t we get it right?, Hunk wrote, referring to the project him and Pidge had been working on for some competition.

That’s okay, I’m sure that you will be able to figure it out soon. Maybe you guys could use some rest?, Lance replied as the last word rang in his head.

Rest, rest, rest. 

Lance could use some rest. A permanent one. One without the pain and sadness and emptiness. One where he would put an end to his misery. 

We can’t afford it, the deadline is approaching. Plus you know that I have to win this, Pidge added and right, it was the group chat.

Hunk and Pidge had been Lance’s best friend ever since high school. They even went to the same college. Both of them were getting degrees in engineering hence the competition and working together. Lance wasn’t really into it like they were but he still tried and was supportive as much as he could be. It made his friends happy therefor it made Lance want to try for them.

Can I help you somehow?, he offered, secretly and selfishly wishing for someone to offer the same thing. 

Not really but thank you for asking, I just wanted to let someone know, Hunk replied and that was the end of that conversation.

It happened often those days. Someone texting and the conversation lasting for only a couple of short and quick texts before dying down. It had been a while since they really sat down and talked, let alone saw each other. But Lance got it. They were busy and had too many problems of their own to think about him. It hurt a bit, knowing that he was trying to be there for them and still found time and energy to care in a way when they didn’t do the same but he didn’t blame them. Not everyone could function in the same way and he understood and respected that. Not their fault that he was the way he was anyway.

You guys will do great, just be patient. You know what Shiro says, Keith chimed in and yes, Mullet was there too. 

They met in Lance’s freshman year of college. Next-door neighbors. Keith insulted Lance’s loud music and Lance immediately declared him his rival. It took a while but they eventually became civil with each other, moving from rivals to friendly acquaintances to friends to best friends and a secret crush on Lance’s part. The fact that Keith was friends with Matt who was Pidge’s brother and dating Hunk helped since it forced them to hang out together more often, getting to know each other and going over their differences.

Patience yields focus, yadda yadda yadda. I don’t give a fuck about patience! I just want to win!, Pidge roared.

Language, Hunk reprimanded. By the way, guys, wanna meet up tonight or something? It's been a while.

And Lance’s heart sank at the words. It wasn’t like he didn’t miss them or want to hang out with them but he was having trouble with leaving his apartment as it was. He only left when he really had to and couldn’t avoid it any longer, otherwise, he preferred to stay in his little bubble of sadness, thank you very much. His workload suffered because of it, naturally, and everything else in general but he couldn’t find it in himself to care or make an effort. Just the thought of leaving made him sick and uncomfortable.

Can’t tonight, sorry Hunky, he quickly typed out, sighing and waiting for a response.

A string of ‘why not’s and ‘please, Lance, just for a bit’ followed but none of it melted his resolve. They were busy, he knew. It was better not to bother them. Besides, he wasn’t the greatest company at that moment, he didn’t want to bring everyone else down, too. Or worse, he didn’t want to spend hours pretending, acting, posing as if he was okay, and feeling miserable when nobody notices.

He turned off his phone, tossed it aside, and focused on the TV. He wasn’t really paying much attention to the show but it was better than staring into nothing. His hand itched for him to reach his phone and talk to someone, stop ignoring people, call, text, anything, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Even the thought of it made him feel tired and drained.

Everyone was busy. His family, his friends. All of them wrapped up in their own issues, thousands of problems, not having enough time to listen to Lance's whining, complaining, venting. They just needed their good old Lancey Lance. The one with a beaming smile at ready and a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen and advice to give. Nobody needed the sad ball of misery that he was shriveled at. 

Time passed, Lance remained in his curled up position, sniffing here and there and coming in and out of consciousness when he heard a knock on the door. He stilled, as if he wasn’t still enough as it was, waited with a held breath. 

Another knock followed by another and another and another then an impatient, “Lance, open up. I know that you’re in there.”

Lance’s eyes widened upon recognizing Keith’s angered voice. He contemplated opening the door but decided against it. Maybe Keith would leave if he played dead?

No such luck. Not even a minute later, he heard a loud groan followed by the jingling of keys and an unmistakable sound of his door opening and closing. Soft footsteps sounded as Keith ventured deeper into the apartment, calling out his name with an exasperated sigh, “Lance, where are you?”

Lance dragged his arm out of the blankets, raised it knowing that Keith would be able to see it and waved him over. “Over here, Mullet”, he replied with a croaky voice, throat feeling dry and scratchy from the unuse.

Five seconds later, Keith was standing in front of him, hands on his hips, and a concerned frown on his face as he gazed down on him, indigo eyes narrowed and calculating. He sighed before squatting down and touching Lance’s cheek with soft fingertips. “Lance”, he sadly repeated, “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?”, Lance countered despite leaning more into the touch, letting Keith cup his cheek more firmly. 

“You haven’t left the apartment in more than three days. You’re barely responding to any of my texts and you’re declining every invite we send you. I would’ve come sooner but I’ve been busy with work. I’m sorry. I failed you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Not your fault. I’m okay”, he tried but he knew that it was futile. Keith always had the ability to read right through him. Lance didn’t even need to say anything for the other to know what was going on.

Keith sighed once more before moving and tugging on Lance’s arm, “Up. Let’s go.”

Lance groaned, attempted to fight back but Keith was stronger and soon he was sitting upright and trying not to fall back down, dizziness taking over him, his headache hitting him with vengeance and making him wince.

“What’s wrong?”, Keith immediately fussed.

“Nothing, just a headache”, he waved, eyes squeezed shut.

“Again?”

“It never went away”, he quietly confessed.

“Did you…”

“Take any pills? Yeah. Too many, actually. Nothing works.”

Keith bit his lip before running a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the apartment and falling on Lance in the end. “Wait here, okay?”

Lance shrugged, leaned back against the couch, “Got nowhere else to go.”

He quickly patted away, disappearing into the bathroom. Lance sat there the entire time, his brain feeling fuzzy and mushy but still managing to feel touched by Keith caring enough to come and visit him. He felt guilty though. That was exactly what he didn’t want to do. To be a burden, an annoyance, a bother.

Keith came back quickly, a small smile on his face as he easily picked Lance up without waiting for his reaction. Lance scrambled, hands coming up and wrapping around Keith’s shoulders as the other carried him with a frown. “Have you lost weight?”

His eyes fell down, guilt eating him raw for making him worry even more as he gave a small, hesitant nod, “Maybe? I don’t know, really.”

The other didn’t say a word as he carried him into the bathroom, stopping only once they reached Lance’s tub. He gently lowered Lance on the floor, the tiles feeling cold against his bare feet but grounding him and waking him more up at the same time. 

The tub was filled to the brim with water and bubbles, the smell of Lance's favorite bath bomb, and candles feeling his nose and lungs. Coconut, mango, papaya. His head instantly felt lighter as he breathed in deeply, a small smile appearing on his face. 

Keith squeezed his shoulders softly before taking a step back, “Take a bath, I’ll be out here if you need anything, yeah?”

Lance’s hand immediately flew to Keith’s, a panicked look in his eyes as he silently pleaded, “Keith, I-I can’t…”

“It’s okay”, Keith shushed him, “Just for a bit, yeah? Just relax. I know you can do it”, he encouraged, soft, understanding, caring. 

Lance bit his lips, nodded, released his hand, and silently watched as Keith stepped out, closing the door behind himself. He sighed as he started stripping off his clothes. He could do it. It was just a bath. He could probably use it, too. How long had it been since the last time he actually showered? It was probably before the last time he went out with everyone so..a week? Eight days?

He had no idea but one was certain, his hair was greasy as fuck and clothes probably smelly since he had been wearing the same pair of pajamas the entire time. He internally winced, thinking about how Keith carried him, pressing their bodies close. He felt disgusted at himself for allowing something like that to happen. Keith was probably repulsed, too, thinking the same as he did.

The water was perfectly warm as he slid into it, bubbles gliding across his skin, soothing his stiff and aching joints, making him sigh as he slid all the way down to his chin. He spotted one simple face mask next to the tub as well as some shampoo and conditioner, courtesy of Keith he assumed. 

Thinking back on the state he was in, Lance made a grab for the mask and plastered it on his face. He didn’t even notice how bad his skin got but then again he was avoiding his reflection like a plague, memories of bad skin days, and acne haunting him and making him nauseated every time he looked at himself. 

He didn’t know how long he spent there, taking his time with everything and making sure he even brushed his teeth properly. He wasn’t neglecting them during his downtime at least but one can never be certain and it wouldn’t hurt him to do it after all. By the time when he emerged from the bathroom, he felt lighter than he did in a week, all the filth and grease being washed away, skin feeling taken care of and smelling like various body lotions and oils he carefully put on. Keith even took his time to leave him a new set of clothes inside, which consisted of a pair of underwear, fresh pajama bottoms and one of Keith’s shirts that probably stayed in Lance’s apartment some time ago. 

The dark-haired man was sitting in the place Lance was previously at. The apartment looked different as well. The curtains were drawn, leaving room for Lance to look outside and into the night that covered the city. The place felt fresher and lighter and cleaner. The pile of dishes was gone as well as all of the blankets and pillows Lance previously used. Keith even took his time to change the sheets on them and take out the trash he managed to pile up. 

How long was he even inside then, Lance wondered as he took everything in, eyes wide, mouth forming a little o.

“Hey, all good?”, Keith called as he walked up to him.

Lance couldn’t contain it any longer, finally letting a tear slide down his cheek as he took a shaky step forward and threw himself into Keith’s arms, clinging to his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. 

Keith immediately stiffened, “Lance…”

“Thank you”, he interrupted with a sniffle as more tears flooded, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”, he couldn’t help but repeat because Keith was there and he helped and he was there, seeing, noticing, caring. 

Keith’s arms instantly wrapped around him, squeezing softly, reassuringly, comfortingly. Making Lance feel whole, feel as if he was finally starting to piece himself back together, feel safe.

“Don’t even mention it”, he whispered softly.

Keith let him cry like that for a while longer, softly shushing him, stroking his back, running his hand through his hair and whispering reassuring words into his ear until Lance’s sobs reduced to occasional sniffles. 

“I’m sorry”, he whispered but Keith pretended not to hear.

“Are you hungry?”, he asked instead and Lance had to lean back, look him in the face, see the casual expression he wore as he looked down on him with those beautiful eyes of his. “I ordered us some takeout if you’re up for it? It’s Italian.”

And Keith knew that it was his favorite. Lance couldn’t do anything else but nod softly before trailing after him and towards the couch. The food was laid out on the table, ready and waiting for them. 

“Thank you”, he whispered as he accepted the offered box and Keith only smiled, comforting, soft, sweet.

“You’re welcome”, he replied as he leaned back, arm extending and grabbing an end of a blanket before tossing it over their laps. “Wanna watch Mean Girls?”, he asked as he opened Netflix.

And Lance couldn’t help but smile, head falling and leaning against Keith’s sturdy shoulder as he nodded, “Sure.” 

It didn’t take away Lance’s problems, not by far, but it was a good step forward. Keith stayed the night, holding him and comforting him when he failed to fall asleep again, promising to be there and help him. Promising not to leave and that it was all just temporary.

“You’re strong Lance”, he said as he held him, letting Lance cry into his chest again and not caring that he was ruining his shirt, “You can do this. I know you can. You can fight it and I’ll help. I promise that I’ll help. It’s going to be okay.”

And Lance believed him, trusted him and he knew that it wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. 

It was never as hopeless as it seemed. Never as pointless.

It was just some bad time after all. 

It would pass.

**Author's Note:**

> Conclusion: I need a Keith in my life


End file.
